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Chapter Ten

Friday May 23, 2008

12:08pm

The Infinity Care Center was the premier long-term care facility for retired folk in Sandy, offering topnotch services to less than a hundred highly-sought after beds. For nine years, Patricia had faithfully served as Infinity's social worker, always early to work and late to leave. Cooped up in her small, orderly office, the mother shepherd took quick bites from a granola bar and glared at her Blackberry phone.

The name "Elena" was burned into her eyes.

That morning, the leery mother had stole into her son's room. Tyson, out on his daily run, had left his cellphone on his nightstand--incriminating text messages and all.

"call me"

"love you"

"xo"

Having seen enough, Patricia had punched "Elena's" number into her own phone. She had been greatly anticipating this lunch break. Taking another bite of granola, the shepherd punched the green call icon on her phone. Four rings before a deep and inquisitive voice answered her.

"Hello?"

Patricia calmly asked whom she was speaking to.

"This is Elena," replied the woman, sounding confused.

This bitch.

"My name's Patricia Spriggs," announced the shepherd, her delivery deliberate and cordial. "I believe you're already acquainted with my son."

"Miss Spriggs, oh--"

Patricia leaned forward, wearing a terrifying snarl. "That's right."

* * *

12:20pm

The scent of laundry detergent and the sound of gunshots permeated a dark basement where Tyson, Calvin and a gangly coyote friend of theirs lay sprawled over an old couch and metal folding chairs. All of their eyes were fixed upon a dim, square television screen.

"Get back here, pussy!" the coyote demanded.

"Fuck off!" laughed Tyson, doing what he could to escape.

"Where the hell are you guys?" asked Calvin.

"Following this pussy!" said the coyote.

Noah had been a fringe friend of Tyson throughout high school--fun to drink and kill time with but never someone he had palled around with on his own. The coyote's six-four stature had made him a guaranteed starter on the Sandy Varsity High basketball team, and the brand-new Mustang his parents had bought him had inflated an already sizable ego. Ego and automatic transmission aside, Noah was a decent guy.

Tyson flinched as a ringtone burst from his pocket. "Shit!" he cursed, pulling the phone out while a re-spawn timer counted down on his corner of the television.

Elena?

Frowning at the caller's name, the shepherd composed a short text.

"can't talk now sorry"

An all-caps reply came as he picked up his controller.

"IMPORTANT CALL ASAP"

He frowned at the message for a bit before putting his feet on the bare-concrete floor. "I gotta make a quick call."

"Seriously, dude?" said Calvin.

"I guess it's important."

Tyson scampered up rickety basement steps and navigated growing piles of boxes and magazines in a cramped hallway. The entire house reeked of old food and mold. Tyson punched through a squeaky storm door at the end of the Mcculloughs' living room, meeting fresh summer air and finally space to stretch his legs.

Alright. Let's see what this is about, he thought as he hit Elena's number.

His call was answered on the first ring.

"Ty!"

Tyson frowned, noting fluster in the fox's voice, and began to pace. "Hey? You okay?"

"I'm more worried about you."

"What does that mean?"

"Your mom just called me."

Tyson immediately stopped his pacing. Felt sick. "Oh, shit."

He clapped a paw to his forehead as Elena explained the situation. "Fucking bitch must have gone through my phone," he said when she finished.

"She must have," sighed Elena.

"So, what did you say?"

"I told her everything, Ty. I couldn't lie to her."

Tyson's voice came out near a whimper. "Fuck. Well, it was nice knowing you."

"Ty, I couldn't do anything else."

"No no no," sighed Tyson. "I'm not mad at you. I just can't believe she found out."

"Neither could I. I'm sorry, Ty."

"Ya know, I'll be up for adoption soon--"

Elena laughed nervously.

After telling the fox that he would get in touch with her later, Tyson snapped his phone shut with another curse and ran to bid his friends a hasty farewell. He had to hurry home--prepare a defense. He perched himself at the TV room window to worry and stand watch.

* * *

3:49pm

When Anessa brought a friend into the house, Tyson abandoned his TV-room post. "You might wanna be gone when Mom gets home," he warned the girls.

"Why?" asked Anessa, pausing at the kitchen cabinet.

"She's pissed. I mean, really pissed."

"At you?"

"Yep."

Anessa's mouse friend watched her hosts with nervous, beady eyes. "I think I should go home."

* * *

5:30pm

Tyson, a cloud of doom about him, was seated in the seldom-used family room when the garage door creaked open and closed. When the kitchen door slammed shut.

"Fuck," he exhaled, and he took what he felt may have been one of his final breaths.

Assertive footsteps went to the stairs, passing the family room, unaware. Tyson was tempted to remain silent and prolong his lifespan.

"Hey, Mom," he grunted after the fading steps.

Face impassive, Patricia strode into her son's view, locking cool eyes with him. "Your phone" were her first words.

"Wait, Mom, can't--"

Patricia's voice cut across Tyson's plea, and an open paw shot out. "Phone."

Sighing, Tyson passed his cellphone over and watched it disappear. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything."

"Do you know how disgusted I am right now?"

Tyson held his mouth shut.

Patricia shook her head and laughed an unamused laugh. "My eighteen-year-old son is dating a woman older than me. My dumbass, eighteen-year-old son is going out with the college professor. Did you have a nice fuck yesterday? Did you think I couldn't smell her on you?"

Tyson tensed at his mother's coarseness.

"You're a few months from statutory rape. Did you ever think about how this might affect your school, Ty? You know, you've done a lot of stupid shit growing up, but this . . . You've--" Patricia's nose twitched. "You've really outdone yourself, Ty. Give me your keys."

Tyson bristled. "What do you need them for?"

"If you think you're going to see that bitch again you're getting dumber by the minute. Keys." Patricia gestured her paw again. "Ty, give me your keys or I will bash your precious little car to pieces right now."

"Holy shit!"Tyson shouted, and he flung his key chain to the carpet floor. "Anything else you need?"

"Don't you daretalk to me like that, Ty! Don't you fucking dare!"

"Fine," growled Tyson, and he brushed past his mother's tail. "I'm going upstairs."

"You might want to start thinking about where you're going to school this fall!" Patricia shrieked. "I'm not paying for you to be anywhere near that bitch!"

"Yeah?" growled Tyson, swinging around to face his mother.

"Don't you fucking test me," snarled Patricia.

"Whatever."

The horribly-unpleasant sound of something like a laugh nearly shattered Tyson's restraint. His paws clenched. His ears rolled back. And then he realized that his mother was crying.

"Go to your room, Ty," said Patricia, putting a paw over her eyes. "I don't want to see you right now."

After a few more excited breaths, Tyson could only scowl and tear himself away from the confrontation. He took the stairs heavily, passed his father in the TV room, shunning eye contact, and slammed his bedroom door shut.He wanted to punch through a few walls or rip his ears off, but he restrained himself, dropping onto the side of his mattress instead and trying to rationalize what had just unfolded. His reasoning led to one simple conclusion.

I'm fucked.